


Intermezzo

by WriterKos



Series: Joy Buchanan Series [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, POV Male Character, Romance, Sex, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterKos/pseuds/WriterKos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened when Buchanan left the bar with McGee. Third in a series. Follows A Geek walks into a bar and Entertaining angels unaware. MATURE CONTENT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Andante cantabile

**_Title: Intermezzo_ **  
**_Author: WriterKos_ **  
**_Rating: M - NC-17_ **  
**_Parings: McGee/OFC_ **  
**_Characters: McGee, Original Character_ **  
**_Genres: Drama, Romance, Character Study, Sex, First time_ **  
**_Warnings: SEX_ **  
**_Summary: What really happened when Buchanan left the bar with McGee. Third in a series. Follows A Geek walks into a bar and Entertaining angels unaware. MATURE CONTENT.  
_ **

_We mortals with immortal minds are only born for sufferings and joys, and one could almost say that the most excellent receive joy through sufferings. Ludwig van Beethoven_

_"We are all damaged. Some people are just better in hiding it than others." – SA Joy Buchanan_

**_Chapter 1: Andante cantabile_ **

Special Agent Timothy McGee likes to consider himself as a man with simple needs. He works in a job he loves, with a team who is more like a second family than just coworkers.

However, he feels like there is something lacking in his life. He has a deep need to love and be loved, and that has resulted in a long list of disappointing relationships as every person he has ever tried to connect somehow was either disinterested, crooked, murdered or a psychopath.

He was raised to be a gentleman. He had recently lost a lot of baby fat that seemed to have followed him all the way into adulthood. He felt healthier, fitter and better prepared than ever in his life.

Yet there was still something missing, as he still lacked someone to share the intimacy he so much craved.

He had had a relationship with his colleague Abby Sciuto while he was still a junior agent in Norfolk. However the relationship went down the drain when he became a full time agent under Gibbs at the NCIS Headquarters thanks to the infamous Rule 12: Never date a coworker.

And Abby also was too much of a free spirit to truly commit to only one man in the traditional white picket fence house with 2.5 kids. They were still friends, but that didn't necessarily mean that it didn't hurt when she called him to her lab just to show him the new flavor of the week. And whenever she needed something, she came asking him to do, regardless of the type of consequences or trouble he might be in if he were caught.

There was a long line of failures in his real or attempted relationships.

There was that witness who died while he was talking to her on the phone. Another failure.

There was the time that DiNozzo pretended to be his online date.

And the last fiasco was with the South African hit woman, who actually was going to murder him after softly seducing him into her web.

After that, the pain hit levels so high that he voiced his thoughts out aloud in the bullpen in a soft whisper.

"I'm joining a monastery."

After being totally mocked by DiNozzo for falling for a hit killer, he left the office that night and instead of going straight home as he had initially planned he stopped in a bar and got totally wasted.

Once he woke up the next morning, he promised himself never to commit his heart to more heartache ever again.

Dinozzo's taunts continued. The pain was buried under tons of requests of research and emotional demands of the investigations that followed. But the wound was still there, raw and infected in his soul.

 **It hurt.** A lot.

So that Saturday night, when he stopped his Porsche Boxter outside of the team's bar, he had no intention of picking up any girl for the night. He just wanted to relieve the stress of a work week.

So he was deeply surprised when the stranger started talking to him. He initially thought she was another one of those uniform groupies that usually hang out in cop bars, just waiting for someone with an uniform or any type of badge to show up so they might jump his bones.

But his first impression was quickly changed the more they chatted. She was not from the neighborhood and she carried herself as someone who worked in the Force as well. She had the walls built up so high around her that one could see them from a mile away.

The lost air she had all around her while she stared at the melting ice in her vodka was real not an act and it spoke of a hurt soul not someone looking for adventure on a Saturday night.

They silently agreed not to exchange their last names. They were just Tim and Joy. They covered safe subjects to talk with a stranger and Tim noticed that, even though her smile was restrained during most of their conversation, she literally shone with true joy when she spoke about her family. He steered the conversation in that direction in order to keep that real smile in her face. She proceeded to tell him about a hilarious story of how her father, mother and older brother were waiting for a train in Dusseldorf in order to go to the European Lord of the Rings convention, and he had the opportunity of seeing an amazing transformation as the love for her family shone on her face and hid, if only for a moment, the deep despair she transpired during the whole time they had been speaking.

The time goes by and he has to leave, so does she.

He pays both tabs and escorts her out of the bar. As she walks to the door in front of him, he can't help the very male activity of checking her out and is pleasantly surprised that she is shorter than he had imagined her to be. He probably had been deceived on her height because of how ramrod straight she sat at her chair in the bar.

Once outside she hails a cab and they have that very uncomfortable moment of trying to find the words to say goodbye. He rolls on the balls of his feet and shoves his hands in his suit pocket, in order to control the strange urge he is having of grabbing her by her shoulders and… and what?

The cabbie stops and she says goodbye in a low voice. After a brief moment of indecision flickers on her face, she leans over to kiss his cheek.

His brain apparently fries for a second because the moment her soft soap perfume drifts into his nose and he feels the hot puffs of her breath on the proximity of his neck, he turns his head slightly. Their lips meet.

And a fire that was slowly simmering the whole night roars with strength that he can't and has no wish to control. He feels her opening her mouth, inviting him over to feast and moans when he feels her body attach itself to his like a second layer of clothing. He vaguely feels her arms going up to surround his shoulders and feels a tremor on his body when one of her hands slides seductively through his hair and touch the bare skin in his neck.

Between kisses they find themselves in her taxi and she manages to ask his address. He vaguely remembers the drive and the desperate dash to his place.

Once he manages to close the door of his apartment, he realizes he needs more and turns her around and supports her against the door of his place. His hands are shaking with need, his body is burning, but his mind manages to interrupt his attack to pop a little fact before his eyes.

He doesn't normally do that. Dive without checking the water level. Bringing total strangers to his place just because he was overcome by lust was a total alien concept to him.

And he manages to tell her that.

He expects recrimination or mocking from her part, certainly a gorgeous woman like her with a body to die for would have a string of lovers and broken hearts from the Pacific to DC. And that's exactly when she manages to shock the hell out of him.

It had been four years for her. Four years, seven months, fourteen days and some hours if you are planning to be exact. He could not imagine the reason why but she silences him and rubs herself seductively against him making it clear she plans on starting a new countdown. And soon. Very soon.

He obliges to her demands and takes her to his bedroom.

 


	2. Allegro con brio

**_Chapter 2: Allegro con brio_ **

Once the door closes he slowly slides her body against his own so her feet finally touch the floor, letting her feel his body and the desire he has no intention of hiding. For some reason she is fascinated by his arms. Her hands keep going up and down as if trying to memorize their shape.

He drops the suit in the floor and starts to unbutton his shirt, while she kicks her high heels to the side and starts taking off her clothes as well. His gaze is fixed on the hints of skin here and there when she puts her arms up to get the skintight pullover with a priest neck over her head, leaving only a soft looking shirt underneath.

She starts unbuttoning the shirt and there is a smart smile on her face.

He smiles back and opens his shirt to reveal a white t-shirt underneath, takes it off and, once she reveals the existence of a black bra over her magnificent breasts, he leaves his clothes alone and attacks her.

He has to feel her.

His hands softly glide over the skin of her sides and he takes the shirt hindering his access and throws it to the floor, leaving her upper torso only with the bra.

His mouth attaches itself to hers, while his fingers apparently had lost all dexterity as he can't undo the buttons of her trousers. She smiles against his mouth and proceeds to undo hers and maneuvers the trousers away from her body, granting him access to a larger stretch of skin. They turn and fall on the bed in a mess of legs and arms. However, before he manages to get acquainted to his new territory she undoes his trousers and slips a soft manicured hand in his boxers where she finds erect and excited.

She squeezes him. Hard.

He stops to moan and hisses under his breath at her touch.

"Careful there, please."

"Oh, sorry." She looks truly chagrined so he smiles at her, trying to tranquilize her.

"No, it is ok." His hand goes south and envelopes hers guiding her up and down movements, showing her exactly how he likes to be touched.

"Like this, don't squeeze, just move... yes." He moans and closes his eyes in bliss.

"You like this?"

"Oh.. yes…"

He smiles and supports his head on her shoulder, his upper body being supported by his elbows on each side of her body and closes his eyes to endure the ministrations of her hands.

"And what about this…"

Her hand moves towards the tip, where a drop white liquid is already leaking and uses one of her finger to slowly massage the sensitive skin under the head.

McGee feels his eyes rolling back in the head and decides to act before he embarrasses himself.

"Okay, stop now."

"Why?" She pouts, unwilling to let him go.

"I don't want to finish before we have even started." He says with a self mocking grin.

They smile at each other and, in a maneuver to let any contortionist proud, she raises one of her legs to his waist and she hooks the belt ring of his trousers in her big toe and manages to slide his trousers out of his body, all of this without stopping her kisses.

_Show off._

He rolls his body and lays down on his back, bringing her so she lies on top, the curtain of hair flowing softly over her body. His hands tangle with her hair playing with her curls.

 _Is it naturally curvy like that,_ he wonders but he does not ask her about it. He wraps his fist in the silky strands and pulls her down, attacking her lips and demanding everything she can offer.

Their mouths dwell together and he rolls over again, depositing her back on the bed so he can better feast on her neck. He finds one of her weak points as he kisses her ear and she immediately moans loudly. He then proceeds to take mental notes of all places that excite her. His hands become more demanding and move to remove her bra to massage the mounds that are pressed against his chest. He raises his torso and molds the flesh in his hand, brushing the erect tips with his callused fingers and lowers his head to give proper homage to them. He starts with the right one, his lips suckling like a hungry child.

She raises her back from the bed, her arms wrapped around him, pulling him against her, trying to bring him closer, under her skin.

His hands are not idle and while his mouth is on one breast his hands are massaging the other. He moves his mouth to the left one and his hands start caressing the right one so it will not feel neglected. He licks the faint sweat accumulated under the mound, circles the tip and then sucks as much flesh as possible in his mouth, biting softly the skin.

She is moaning restlessly now.

However, his sensitive hands feel something out of place as it glides over soft skin. He moves his mouth to it and he feels a slight change in the skin, something that shouldn't be on that fleshy part over her breast close to the area where it meets the curve that goes to the underarms.

He stops and tries to see it in the half light that filters through the windows. He silently traces it with his fingertips and notices that she immediately tenses.

It is a scar. A scar of a nearly fatal bullet wound.


	3. Presto

**_Chapter 3: Presto_ **

There are defining moments in life where the outcome of a situation is decided in mere few seconds. Most of the time, you don't have all the facts, but you have to use the best of your judgment to try to decided what is the best way out.

McGee feels he is in one of those crossroad moments. He can feel Joy's body tensing up with dread and he knows that, if he doesn't react the right way she would run. He raises his eyes to her face and finds her looking at him with a carefully guarded expression, but she couldn't completely hide the pain and shame lurking in her eyes. He tries to find any clue in them, but she's not giving any away.

He looks down at the scar at her chest again. He frowns imagining the pain she must have gone through. A couple centimeters down and right, she would have died immediately. As it is, it must have been excruciating, as she certainly must have had complications, like a collapsed lung and broken ribs. Months of recovery, followed by months of therapy, followed by months of wondering thinking why she had been given a second chance to live.

All of that flashes in his head in seconds and he finally makes up his mind, lowers his head and deposits a soft kiss of the puckered skin, tracing the edges of the scar with his tongue and lips. At his touch she releases the breath she had no idea she was holding.

After his lips touched the scar he raises his head again so he can look at her face and he sees in her eyes no more dread, but only confusion. Her breath is coming in gasps, trying to control a mild attack of panic. He softly glides his hands over her arms as if trying to settle a scared little child.

He still must say something.

"You could have died."

"I almost did."

She pauses as she licks lips that suddenly had gone very dry. Finally she admits in a whisper for his ears alone.

"Sometimes I wish I did."

 **No**. "No, no, no." He repeats and he moves so that his body is completely over hers and his face is hovering over hers and his big hands frame her face, forcing her to look at his eyes.

"No, you are alive."

He says it as if trying to convince her of that fact.

"You are **ALIVE**." he says slowly, pronouncing every word trying to make an impression in her soul. She tries to say something, her mouth is opening and closing but no words are coming out of it.

 _It's okay_. He kisses her forehead lightly. _It is okay._

He leans back so he may look at her face and she uses one of her hands to bring his face down and kiss him with a tenderness that literally breaks his heart. He raises his head and her eyes are shimmering with tears, an emotion that he can't name shining deep in her brown irises. They kiss again, but now with a voracity not felt before.

The gentleness is gone, now only the deep desire for a reaffirmation of life rules their actions. He looses the t-shirt and his briefs; she tosses her pantyhose somewhere overhead. She bites his shoulder when she feels his fingers tentatively touching her and moans loudly when he reaches his goal.

McGee slides his hand down, tracing the curves and plains of her body. Now he understands why he was so fascinated by her air of aloofness. She is a survivor, molded in fire and attracted to it. His fingers lightly brush the hairs that protect his objective and he can feel her opening her legs instinctively to his assault. He grazes her clit with his knuckles and is rewarded with a deeper moan. His fingers continue exploring and he plunges into her mouth deeply at the same time that he introduces one finger testing the territory. Her hands grip firmly his forearms and she gasps, hiding her face against his neck when he adds another finger to the other already in place massaging her very feminine center.

She hadn't been lying about how long she had been celibate as he can feel her muscles tense with the invasion and clench firmly along his fingers. He moans imagining how tight a fit it will be when he is finally in her, surrounded by her, one with her. He starts moving his fingers around to make some room and is rewarded with a moaning chant of unarticulated words. He lowers his head and starts kissing a trail between her breasts, down the plains of her tummy and relocates his hands to hold her hips firmly in place. She looks questioningly at him, as to ask _'what?'_ then he dives in the valley between her legs and feast.

She can't hold the surprised yelp or her instinct to close firmly her legs, but he holds her open to his attack. She bucks like a bronco horse under his ministrations but he doesn't let go. Timothy McGee is a man on a mission and he's not about to give up now. He adds again two fingers exploring her secrets and keeps moving them around as if he were looking for something. Suddenly she tenses even more when his fingers touch her in a certain spot, her legs twitching as he makes some pressure on it. He smiles and increase his attacks the same place with his long fingers until her whole body spasms and she shouts her release.

While she still shudders in the aftermath, he rests his face on the skin of her thighs, hearing her attempts to get her breathing under control. He smiles when he looks up at her face finding that she has that glazed look of someone who just had a mind-blowing orgasm. He goes back to his toil and she tenses again, what are you doing. He manages to bring her to climax twice before she tangles her fingers in his hair and pulls him up, silently begging no more no more. He kisses her deeply forcing her to taste herself in his lips at the same time she lowers her hand to play with him but he stops her advances before she reaches her goal _. Not yet,_ he stretches his hand to the bedside table, gets a condom and rolls it over his erection under her watchful eyes. He rolls on top again and brings her hand down to touch him.

"It won't fit." She whispers while she massages him, feeling every ridge and vein under her sensitive fingers.

"Ah, it will." He says tensely, "it will just be very, very tight." He adds between kisses.

He waits for her move to guide him between her legs and he moans as she rubs the tip of his cock against her sensitive skin.

"You're killing me here." He says between gritted teeth, trying hard not to spill himself before even starting the main act.

"Really?" She smiles saucily and positions him at her entrance.

He pushes into her willing body and they both can't help but moan. He moans because it is indeed a very tight fit just as he had imagined and he advances only a few inches before her body clenches like a vice around his erection forcing him to stop. She moans because it has been a long time since she had anything thicker than her own fingers down there, and McGee is definitely thicker than her own fingers.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah," she says between gasps with a slight frown of discomfort. He notices that and retreats a little, but she stops him before he can completely pull out.

"No… just… go slowly".

He exhales forcibly and start the in and out movement, adding some inches each time until he bottoms out. He freezes in that position and lifts his torso so he can see her eyes.

"Hey," he says looking at her face, looking at her face for any sign of discomfort.

"Hey…" she smiles silently giving her permission to continue.

And they dance, moving their bodies as one until the stimulation is too much and they both finally shout their release almost simultaneously.

He can feel the shakes coursing through her body as he slowly slides his hands on her thighs which are firmly wrapped around his hips. His breathing is slowly coming back to normal. As he lets his hands wander, softly gliding them up her legs he feels some kind of dot marks on her hips where only smooth skin should be. He looks at her questioningly as his fingers trace the round marks on her skin. She tenses a little, unsure of what to reveal, but after what they had just shared this wasn't really a secret. She releases a deep breath and murmurs in a very low voice.

"It was a long time ago."

Curious, he disengages himself from her body and turns on the bedside lamp, his gaze going down so he can check the patch of skin his hands had been just exploring.

He finds more scars. Perfectly round cigarette burn scars - six or eight of them - are spread out over the skin of her hip, usually hidden from sight. By their looks they must be over twenty years old. He looks up at her and she for once can't meet his eyes, unwilling to reveal her thoughts and feelings so easily revealed by her brown gaze.

He moves his body so it lies by her side, not smothering her down against the bed sheets and he feels her body starting to shake with unrestrained emotion.

He tries to say something, but she turns her back to him and tries to leave the bed, but her legs are tangled with the sheets and her crying becomes more forceful, more desperate. He then silently gathers her in his arms and brings her against his chest, his arms silently going around her shoulders as she struggles feebly against his hold but he is adamant. He's not letting her go. She finally sobs in defeat and turns, lying in his arms while all the bricks of her carefully built walls silently crumble down to the floor.


	4. Pause

**_Chapter 4: PAUSE_ **

Only the noise of their breathing fills the room. After the crying fit passes, they stay in silence trying to get their wits together and silently watching the lights of passing of cars which are reflecting on McGee's bedroom ceiling.

After a while she moves, silently asking permission to roll out of his arms. He releases his hold on her and they both are finally lying on their backs, side by side, waiting for the other to speak.

"I'm sorry." She whispers finally breaking the heavy silence that hovered over them.

"Don't apologize. It's a sign of weakness."

"Who said that?" She can't hide her curiosity at his statement.

"My boss."

"Uhm."

She turns so she may look at him, silently demanding an explanation. He turns on the bed and supports his head on his hand, elbows on the pillow, looking down at her face.

"He has this list of rules that we are supposed to obey." He smiles aware of how ludicrous Gibbs' rules would sound to someone not from the team.

"A list?"

"Yeah. Rules for everything."

She smiles at his statement. She raises her head from the pillow and glances around the room, taking in the mess they've made in their desperate attempt to reach the bed.

"Tim, do you mind if I ask something?"

"No, not all. What?"

She opens her mouth but her tummy loudly interrupts whatever she was supposed to say.

"Was that you?" He laughs out loud, noticing how mortified she is.

"I…" Her tummy growls again as a hungry tiger. She looks at him embarrassed, biting her soft lower lip.  
He smiles, "You are hungry."

"Yes," She is wanting for a hole to open up where she could hide herself. "I haven't eaten anything since last night in the airplane."

He rises from the bed and start looking for his briefs on the floor while she sits on the bed holding the duvet to her chest.

"Let's feed that beast before it attacks us then," He says putting his used t-shirt on.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tim slowly gathers the necessary ingredients for a sandwich and puts some water to boil for tea. He pets Jethro's head and gives him a slice of cheese which the dog wolfs down gladly. He hears silent patter of feet on his carpet, turns and finds Joy standing by the door of his bedroom in his used shirt buttoned over her bra, reaching the middle of her tights.

"Come over, it is almost ready." He says as prepares the table for the impromptu snack in the middle of the night.

She slowly approaches the counter and sits gracefully on one of the high chairs. She fidgets a little, apparently uncomfortable with something.

"What's wrong?"

She can't meet his eyes as she rubs one of her fingers nervously over a scratch on his kitchen counter.

"I can't find my knickers." She admits with a blush.

He smiles as he sets the sandwiches, tea and napkins before her.

"After we are done eating we will arrange a through search."

She finally smiles at him and wolfs down her sandwich.

"This is good," she mumbles between bites.

In the other hand, he eats in a more sedated pace, his gaze darting to her every once in a while. He can't help a little smirk as he sees that she eats with gusto the sandwich he had just prepared, paying attention to how she distractedly licks her mayo covered fingers.

"What?" She had noticed his smirk.

"Nothing."

She's not willing to let him go that easily.

"What?"

"You eat like you really like it." His voice is full of irony.

She shrugs, her attention going back to the sandwich in her hand still half eaten.

"I like eating. I just don't normally have the time or the disposition for it." She mumbles between bites.

"Really?"

"I was a little chubby in my early teens, but later on I lost weight with a lot of exercise or because I would simply forget to eat. Work and more work, you know how it is."

He mentally hums in his mind as he picks the salad between the bread and ham in his sandwich.

"I've also lost weight recently."

He thinks about his struggle throughout his adult years with his weight and adds softly.

"Lots of exercise, dieting and push ups."

Just to show her how different he felt, he slides a hand over the t-shirt covering his now softly defined chest.

"And that's the result you see today."

She raises an eyebrow at him, her gaze studying him with a small smirk. "Don't you ever wonder?"

"About what?"

"If it was all worthwhile. All the pain and frustration and sweat… all those missed milkshakes."

"Oh, yeah." He gets a dreamy look on his eyes, "Greasy hamburgers with all the trimmings."

They look at each other and burst laughing. The mirth slowly dies as their natural sandwiches are reduced to mere breadcrumbs.

He starts collecting the plates and she moves the glasses to the sink and their bodies lightly touch; the slight friction against each other generates electricity, making they jump apart taken by surprise by the strange effect one has over the other. He finishes doing the dishes fast while she is left standing awkwardly by the kitchen counter, unsure of what to say and what to do to him.

He hangs the dish towel and turns around, smiling at her lightly as he tries to figure out what to do with his hands.

"So, I guess this is it."

She nods, sighing.

"Yeah. You've said you have to work tomorrow." She briefly glances to her watch and grimaces, adding halfheartedly, "Uhm… today, so I think I'd better go."

McGee starts to nervously rub his now sweaty palms against his pants.

"I lied."

That softly spoken admission makes her pause, looking at him questioningly.

"You lied."

McGee shrugged, unwilling to let her go. He was certain that he didn't want this weekend to end.

"Yeah, it's Sunday, I've got the day off."

She nodded, her gaze sliding over his figure as if seizing him.

"Oh, I see. But I still think I'd better go anyway…"

"Yeah…"

They finally move at the same time in the direction of the bedroom and their bodies lightly touch as they are leaving the area of the kitchen. They freeze, startled. McGee happens to look at her face and he finds a hungry look on her face, her gaze fixed on him as if he is a delicious steak she's about to devour.

"Maybe we could…" She says, leaving her words hanging in the world.

He gulps nervously, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Yeah, I mean… I don't know…oh, I don't have any plans for the weekend and…"

They slowly lean towards each other and the moment their lips join their hands move, hungrily exploring whatever they can touch. After softly moaning against his lips, she leans back and guides his hand towards the valley between her legs, silently begging him for his touch. As he reaches his goal he is suddenly reminded that she has no underwear on, making him release a low growl of need deep in his throat. That woman somehow evoked his most primitive side, so he grabs her firmly by her hips and lifts her up a little until she supports her backside on the kitchen island.

She is moaning against his mouth, shivering under his ministrations at the same time he is exploring her with the same dedication he had shown in their previous encounter.

He reverently unbuttons his own shirt which covered her body, slowly moving it away from her body. He leans back and with trembling hands lowers his briefs and takes position between her legs. He pauses briefly to look into her liquid brown eyes and sinks home.


	5. Fuga

**_Chapter 5: Fuga_ **

They made love two other times that night. After he took her against the kitchen counter, they went back to his bedroom and made love again, once with her on top and the other he was on his knees taking her against the wall against which the bed was supported.

Both encounters were ruled with ferocity and hunger, both things that he had never imagined existing in his character. He received bites and scratches and left quite a few as well on her skin. The pleasure was so intense that he felt her body go limp after her last release, which he followed shortly afterwards.

He felt his limbs shaking from the force of the feelings he had felt and when he tried to talk to Joy about it he realized that she had simply fainted in his arms such was the intensity of her orgasm.

He carefully laid her body on the bed, her head on one of his many pillows, covered her with the duvet and silently left her and went to the bathroom to freshen up and to gather his thoughts about the events of the night.

After their encounter in the kitchen, they had briefly talked for a couple of minutes as he had just realized they did not use protection. She informed him that she had been celibate for so long and was regularly tested. Besides, her long stay in the hospital had kept all her shots and tests up-to-date, no reason to worry on her side. In the other hand, he had done the mandatory tests ordered by NCIS just last month and had not been with anyone since, well, ever, so there would be no problem on his part.

He briefly mentioned the possibility of a pregnancy, but she simply moved her head saying sadly but categorically "No, no chance of it ever happening". He was curious about that but seeing the deep sadness in her eyes he decided to let sleeping dogs lie and not mention it again.

In the bathroom, he wets down a small hand towel, swipes the sweat covering his body and turns to see the mess of scratches on his back. He smiles a satisfied male smile, glances down on his own body and uses the wet towel to clean up the fluids on his private parts. He thinks about Joy and gathers another towel, repeating the procedure of wetting it before he finally returns to the bedroom.

In sleep, she has a peaceful expression in her face, very different from the tense woman he had met just a few hours before. Her breathing makes a soft noise every time she exhales and he observes how her breasts sag to the sides as she lies on her back. He decides to leave the bathroom lights on so he can take his time to slowly study her features.

Her messy curly hair spreads all over his pillow and her long eyelashes make thin shadows on her face. Her full firm lips are wet and bloated from the kisses they had shared, silent witnesses of the passion they had shared.

He slowly runs his eyes over the scars on her chest, lowers the duvet a little and notices they are not the only ones blemishing her tanned skin. Besides the bullet wound in her shoulder, which was apparently old, and the one in her right breast, which was new and nearly fatal, she had another scar line in her tummy, apparently caused by a knife.

The duvet is moved lower allowing him to explore her body more, memorize her curves and marks, so he curiously studies the cigarette burns on her hip. He wonders how someone can be so cruel to cause such suffering in another human being. He squeezes the wet part of the towel in his hand and gently opens her legs, silently using the towel to wipe the mess he had left there. He looks up and, even though she sighs, she doesn't wake up under his ministrations. Satisfied with his work, he takes the towel back to the bathroom, kills the light, and returns to bed. She doesn't move a muscle when he settles on her side and wraps his arms around her. He is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.


	6. Fuga

**_Chapter 5: Fuga_ **

They made love two other times that night. After he took her against the kitchen counter, they went back to his bedroom and made love again, once with her on top and the other he was on his knees taking her against the wall against which the bed was supported.

Both encounters were ruled with ferocity and hunger, both things that he had never imagined existing in his character. He received bites and scratches and left quite a few as well on her skin. The pleasure was so intense that he felt her body go limp after her last release, which he followed shortly afterwards.

He felt his limbs shaking from the force of the feelings he had felt and when he tried to talk to Joy about it he realized that she had simply fainted in his arms such was the intensity of her orgasm.

He carefully laid her body on the bed, her head on one of his many pillows, covered her with the duvet and silently left her and went to the bathroom to freshen up and to gather his thoughts about the events of the night.

After their encounter in the kitchen, they had briefly talked for a couple of minutes as he had just realized they did not use protection. She informed him that she had been celibate for so long and was regularly tested. Besides, her long stay in the hospital had kept all her shots and tests up-to-date, no reason to worry on her side. In the other hand, he had done the mandatory tests ordered by NCIS just last month and had not been with anyone since, well, ever, so there would be no problem on his part.

He briefly mentioned the possibility of a pregnancy, but she simply moved her head saying sadly but categorically "No, no chance of it ever happening". He was curious about that but seeing the deep sadness in her eyes he decided to let sleeping dogs lie and not mention it again.

In the bathroom, he wets down a small hand towel, swipes the sweat covering his body and turns to see the mess of scratches on his back. He smiles a satisfied male smile, glances down on his own body and uses the wet towel to clean up the fluids on his private parts. He thinks about Joy and gathers another towel, repeating the procedure of wetting it before he finally returns to the bedroom.

In sleep, she has a peaceful expression in her face, very different from the tense woman he had met just a few hours before. Her breathing makes a soft noise every time she exhales and he observes how her breasts sag to the sides as she lies on her back. He decides to leave the bathroom lights on so he can take his time to slowly study her features.

Her messy curly hair spreads all over his pillow and her long eyelashes make thin shadows on her face. Her full firm lips are wet and bloated from the kisses they had shared, silent witnesses of the passion they had shared.

He slowly runs his eyes over the scars on her chest, lowers the duvet a little and notices they are not the only ones blemishing her tanned skin. Besides the bullet wound in her shoulder, which was apparently old, and the one in her right breast, which was new and nearly fatal, she had another scar line in her tummy, apparently caused by a knife.

The duvet is moved lower allowing him to explore her body more, memorize her curves and marks, so he curiously studies the cigarette burns on her hip. He wonders how someone can be so cruel to cause such suffering in another human being. He squeezes the wet part of the towel in his hand and gently opens her legs, silently using the towel to wipe the mess he had left there. He looks up and, even though she sighs, she doesn't wake up under his ministrations. Satisfied with his work, he takes the towel back to the bathroom, kills the light, and returns to bed. She doesn't move a muscle when he settles on her side and wraps his arms around her. He is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.


	7. Agradabilissimo

**_Chapter 6: Agradabilissimo_ **

Morning doesn't take long to come. McGee wakes up to the protest of muscles that have not been used for a long time. He tries to move and is surprised to feel the sting of scratches on his back and a very soft round form of a breast pushing against his forearms. Those little things wake him up immediately. He looks to the side and is surprised to find a head full of brownish curls lying by his side and a small hand lying on top of his bare chest.

The events of the previous night come to him like a sledgehammer, making he groan mentally as he lays his head back on the pillow wondering how he managed to get his sorry ass into this kind of uncomfortable situation. He silent maneuvers her hand away from his chest so he can get out of bed and observes as she rolls over and hugs his pillow against her naked breasts. He silently gets his shirt and briefs from the floor and leaves the room.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Jethro softly whines to his master who is staring at the burning bacon in the pan with a confused expression. He doesn't hear the first time, so Jethro barks.

"What?"

Jethro licks his chops staring at McGee. He finally engages his brain, gets one of the burning slices and set it aside to cool for the dog.

"I don't want you having a heart attack on me."

He puts the remaining bacon slices on a plate and runs to the eggs that are starting to burn. He pours the fresh made coffee and two tall glasses of orange juice on glasses on the breakfast tray, stops and hold firmly on the corner of the kitchen counter.

The exact same counter he had made love to Joy in the previous evening. He closes his eyes when he feels his body responding to the sensorial memory and mentally headslaps himself for being such an ass.

_She has scars, Tim. Many more than the ones you can see._

He stands straight again, ordering his own body to behave as he throws the now cool bacon to Jethro and takes the breakfast tray to the bedroom to wake up his night guest.

He puts the breakfast tray on the bedside table at the corner and looks at the snoring woman. She has her back turned at him and is sleeping in fetal position, hugging his favorite pillow between her breasts. In the faint morning light, he finally can see clearly faint lines crisscrossing the skin of her back. He silently sits down on the edge of the bed and leans over to get a better look.

There are marks of severe beatings, probably with a belt or some kind of whip, which left deep cuts and done permanent damage all over the soft skin on her back. They are whitish against the tan; some are over each other, meaning that she was subjected over and over to punishment until she had been forever damaged. And they were old. Very old. But the most distinctive ones were the lines from the middle to her lower back that obviously hadn't been made by a belt but by some kind of sharp instrument which clearly spelt a word.

 _Servant_.

She exhales and he starts a little, aware that he is staring and invading her privacy. It must have taken great courage for someone who protected her privacy so much like her to show her scars to anyone. He looks at the floor and tries to gather his thoughts. He then looks at the breakfast tray cooling by the table and seems to reach a decision. He takes his shoes off, moves the duvet and silently lay beside her, spooning her body and bringing her against his chest. He moves her hair away from his face and start dotting her neck with soft kisses, trying to wake her up.

She relaxes a little in his arms, but suddenly tenses when she fully regains consciousness. He tightens his hold on her, afraid she will bolt, but after some tense seconds she wiggles a little in his embrace, enough so she can look at his face.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Sleep well?"

"The best sleep I had in months."

He smiles thinly, seeing her frank stare focused on him.

"I made you breakfast." He points with his head to the breakfast tray sitting on his bedside table.

Her eyes are fixed in his face, studying his features with care. He endures her scrutiny without comment.

"Maybe we should eat."

"Maybe we should."

Her eyes stop on his lips and he feels himself leaning over.

"Maybe we should…"

Whatever she would say was interrupted by his lips, which firmly settled on hers. They stay like that until the need to breathe became first and foremost and they had to stop.

"Timothy?" she murmurs.

"Uhm?" he answers against her lips, before moving his face so he can gently bite her earlobe and kiss her neck.

She moves over to the side and pulls his hard body on top of hers. He obeys silently her demand.

"I'm hungry."

The bacon and eggs get cold.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

After they eat a cold breakfast, they take a shower and silently put their clothes on. They make a canvass search for Joy's knickers, finding it behind some pillows in the corner of his is already running in circles, impatient to leave for his morning walk.

McGee takes Jethro's leash in his hand and is soon ready to leave with the dog and his new friend. They silently take the elevator and go down the street in the direction of the bar, which actually was just a couple of blocks away from McGee's place, to collect his car. She insists on walking with them and she is enchanted with the antics of the goofy German shepherd as they go down the road.

They don't exchange words or empty promises of seeing each other again. McGee imagines that Joy was the kind of person who was used to silence and was quite comfortable with it. Whatever you needed to know, you could ascertain it from her face and her eyes which were without a doubt the most expressive feature in her whole face.

They arrive at the parking lot close to the bar where McGee had left his car. He stops and takes the keys in his hands.

"So, this is it."

"Yeah."

"We could you know…"

"No"

"No?"

"No. It is better this way."

He looks at her with a frown, unhappy that she doesn't want to explore this… this… whatever this is… will be… can be.

"Why?"

"Because I prefer a good mystery." She answers smiling.

He grins back, defeated by her logic.

"Well, you know where I live. If you, someday, are lonely…" She smirks at him. He blushes once he realizes what he had just said, rushing to fix it. "…Or you're just in need to talk, you know where to find me."

"I will remember that."

"Good."

Another long silence falls over them. They are looking at each other, trying to tell with their eyes what their words can't.

After a long moment of hesitation, she turns and starts to walk towards the street.

"Hey Joy," he calls her.

She turns and looks at him, finding him nervously twisting the leash of his dog in his hands.

"Are you going to be okay?"

She carefully considers his question before answering with a sincere smile.

"I'm always okay, Tim."

He seems unsure of that. She decides to give him something more, just to ease his mind.

"We are all damaged. Some people are just better in hiding it than others."

He keeps staring at her, drinking of her image, unwilling to let her go out of his life forever. She looks at the floor trying to find something else to say but she can't find the words to appease him. She hears approaching footsteps and when she looks up there he is.

They kiss again, eagerly and wantonly, trying desperately to put all the emotion that permeated their short encounter in that one single kiss. There is tenderness in his touch when he moves her hair out of the way and when they finally separate they are both smiling.

"Don't wait another four years to … you know."

She smirks, "Okay. I won't."

She turns her back to him and walks out of the parking lot and hails a passing cab on the street. It stops, she opens the door but, before entering, she turns so she can once again look at him. He is standing in the same spot, staring at her with his loyal German shepherd lying at his feet. She smiles, waves at him and enters the cab.

He waves back and watches the cab drive away taking her out of his life forever.

"So, Jethro, it's only you and me again."

The dog whines and nudges his master's leg with its head.

He looks at the direction the cab went, disappearing in the city traffic and from his life.

_It's over._

Or so he thought.

 

\- the end ? -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Now all my fics will be available at Archive of Our Own as well as Oufanfiction dot net AND thewriterscoffeeshop. You could follow me in Twitter WriterKos or in Facebook: Writerkos fanfiction


End file.
